


such a beautiful sin i say

by blastellanos



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Sex while Under the Influence, squint and you miss it reference to drug abuse, this is completely irredeemable porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 02:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/pseuds/blastellanos
Summary: James swings the door open and lets José in, even though it's late, and they have a game in the morning.





	such a beautiful sin i say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badritual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/gifts).



James swings the door open and lets José in, even though it's late, and they have a game in the morning. José looks odd, his breathing is a little rough, and there's a slash of crimson on his cheekbones, and his dark eyes are wide and glittering, pupils blown like someone shone a light in them. José is moving with some kind of purpose, until his hand brushes the wood grain of the night stand, then he stops, looks down at it and rubs his fingertips over it. 

He says something so soft, too soft for James to make out, and then puts both palms on the night stand. He moves, his fingers trailing up along the brass fixture of the light, and James watches with bemusement, and a little worry. 

"You okay, Iggy?" James asks. 

José turns to him and he looks even more red now, as he picks his way over to James. 

"I'm good." José says and he blinks owlishly, then he moves closer to James, toeing his heavy shoes off. José balances with a hand on James's shoulder and his eyes go impossibly wider. 

"Oh." His mouth stays in that o-shape and he starts trailing his fingers over James's shirt. The cotton is soft, worn through, and he holds his breath as José's fingers slide over the curve of his shoulder and down his bicep. 

Nothing, really, could prepare James for what happens next. 

James is a good man-- he's a good father, he's a good husband. He's devoted and he's never thought of straying. 

José ducks in and starts rubbing his cheek against James's shoulder, against the shirt, his hands clutching at the hem of it. 

"Oh, nice," José mumbles and then says something else in Spanish, as he feels the pinpricks of José's stubbled through the shirt. It's like a pin in him, like pins and needles going through his body. James can feel José tugging at the shirt. 

"Uh-- José is-- everything okay?" The words come out in a stutter and José looks up at him, his lips parted and shiny. James notices that José's tongue keeps flashing out, licking them. 

(He doesn't want to kiss José, and he wills the thoughts away the best he can.) 

"Is good. So good. Talk some more." 

José presses his ear back to James's chest and James stands there, confused, for a moment. He clears his throat. 

"I dunno what to say." James says. 

He thinks José's fingers are sliding under his shirt, just a gentle pressure beneath the fabric. 

"You say-- you tell me about whatever." 

James isn't sure where to start, or what he's even doing, so he just starts talking about the cold/hot zones of the Mariners, which they're going to be facing in less than twenty-four hours. He glances at the digital clock display. 

José doesn't seem to notice the late hour, just makes a little pleased noise as James keeps talking. 

"I wanna climb you like a tree." José says suddenly and he loops his arms around James's neck and hitches his legs up around his hips, leveraging up. 

José is heavier than he looks, all compact and lean muscle, but James adjusts enough, to keep them stable. Although he steps back to at least brace them on the wall. 

José has a hard on that pokes insistently into James's stomach and he tries not to react to it. James keeps talking, trying to focus on baseball, and keep his erection down. 

José rubs his face against James's cheek, against his lips while they move, and up further -- until he's rubbing his face against James's hair. He keeps making little noises, like he's discovered something amazing, and through José's knit shorts and his own thin shirt he can feel a damp spot growing against his skin. 

James has to stop talking. 

"José this is --" but he stops when José rolls his hips against his stomach. 

"So strong, so soft." José mumbles, almost like he's not even really hearing James. James moves his hands to disengage José. He has to because his fingertips are itching, and thoughts and feelings he's tried so hard to tamp down are knocking against the walls he's placed up. 

José is like a Latino koala, but James manages to pry him off, and put him back on his own two feet. José doesn't look bothered, his cock is tenting the front of his knit shorts and there's a noticeable damp spot on the fabric. 

James tries to distract himself with the thoughts of who the hell wears yellow knit shorts but José is still staring at him. He looks dazed, like he's not all the way present. But his gaze wanders a little until he's looking over James consideringly. 

"You should let me--" José trails off and makes a crude gesture which takes James a moment to realize is some mime action for blowing him. James's entire face turns read, embarrassment (could he claim rage?) 

James's cock twitches and he thinks of how he can't -- he couldn't -- he won't. 

José steps back in and pushes the soft cotton up, pusing it up under his armpits, and laughing softly at it, before he slides down to his knees and starts nuzzling at James's abdomen. James's breathing shorts out like he's just hit for a triple. 

José's fingers are delicate, magic, as they dance across his skin. José's stubble scrapes and his breath tickles, and James just feels the sensation roll through him. 

"You can't José, I'm married." James whispers. But he's not sure his voice carries. He's not sure he says it out loud. He's not sure he means it. José dips his tongue into James's belly button and chuffs laughter against his skin when James squirms. 

José pushes him back against the wall and looks up at James. James can feel his heart on his throat. The little angel on his shoulder urging him to think of his family, the devil telling him to go for it. 

José's teeth close around the elastic of James's sweatpants, where his cock is poking against the fabric. So José's chin brushes over the clothed head. And José meets his gaze as he pulls the sweat pants down, over the swell of James's cock, with nothing but his teeth. 

James's cock springs free. He's not wearing anything else. James is hard, his cock standing up and for a moment, James just feels his heart hammering, blood rushing in his ears like waves breaking against rocks. 

He feels like his chest is breaking against rocks.

José rubs his cheek against James cock. A line of precome smears on his cheek and James jerks back, his cock twitching, jumping with anticipation. 

He wishes he could reason with his desire, bargain out of this. His hand slips into José's dark curls. He means to push him away. His little angel is nowhere to be found. 

There's no devil either and James knows, with a certainty, that every move from here on out is all his own will. That whatever happens, it's not righteousness, nor is it Satan leading him into temptation.

This is his free will. 

He means to push him away. James reaches down with his other hand and wraps it around the base of his cock and tightens his grip in José's hair. James guides him so he can press his cock against José's lips. 

José doesn't protest. He opens his mouth and slides a slick, hot tongue over the head of James's cock. He does more licking than anything else, dragging his tongue across the slit, the vein on the underside, around the ridge of the head. 

It's like that, soft exploratory strokes of his tongue, until James is dripping with precome and saliva, and it's made José's lips shiny, and he's got it on his chin and cheek, looking sloppy. 

(Looking beautiful.) 

James doesn't press, he just watches as José tastes him, explores him, his fingers digging into the corded muscle of James's thigh. And it's so bad. James knows it's bad but he loves it. He loves it as José gets distracted rubbing his face against James. Against his cock and his thighs and the thatch of pubic hair. 

Against James's hand. 

José's like a cat marking his territory, but he gets saliva and James's precome in his hair, and seems completely unbothered. His breathing still seems all off, and James wonders if José is feverish. 

The thought gets chased away as José lightly scrapes his bottom teeth on the vein on the underside of James's cock. It's all over from there. José's mouth is slick and hot and James feels his throat going dry but he just grabs a fistful of José's hair and surges forward with his hips. 

The noise José makes around James's cock is exultant and his fingernails dig into James's flank as he drives forward, holding José's head in place so he can use his mouth. José looks up at James, eyes dark and glittering, and wetness clinging to his lashes. But it feels like he's urging him on. 

So James takes. 

James _takes_ everything. 

It's refreshing, uncomplicated. He doesn't have to worry about gentleness, about etiquette. He fucks José's throat and feels José swallowing around him, breathing harsh through his nose, nostrils flared. 

"You can take it, can't you baby?" James murmurs gently and José nods as best he can with James's cock in his mouth. James eases forward, more, deeper. 

Until he can feel the top of José's throat, feel the muscle there, as he presses in deeper. José takes him in, losing the ability to breathe as he deepthroats James's cock. 

José does it for a while and pulls back, coughing and choking, looking a little more dazed and fuzzy, and there's saliva from the head of his cock, a line of it, to the tip of José's tongue. 

"Wanna go again?" José's voice sounds wrecked, damaged, like it's sore, like he's been screaming. James nods, feeling his own cheeks get red as he presses back in. Deeper and deeper, letting José guide him. Until he feels it again, José's throat working around his cock, until José can't take it anymore. 

José gags this time when he pulls back, an uncomfortable sound that makes James think this was a bad idea. He sees José's chest shudder, throat working, José haphazardly wipes his mouth which just makes him a bigger mess. 

James still has a fist around his cock. He's stroking himself, looking at how wrecked José looks. It's more appealing than it should be. 

"I'm gonna mess you up." James says, the words coming without his ability to stop them. And he steps in again, stroking his cock and José doesn't shy away, turns his face up like a flower with the sun. 

"Yeah. Is okay." José mumbles, it sounds like rocks in a tumbler. 

James keeps gliding his hand over his cock, where José's already gotten him nice and slicked up, nice and on edge, he doesn't think he'll last long. 

James closes his eyes as he gets closer and then feels the soft rub of José's tongue against his slit. 

"Feel so good, Mac," José mumbles, forming the words against the head of James's dick. "Taste so good. I need it." He's urging James on, rubbing his hands over James calves, licking occasionally. It's too much.

James comes with a muffled shout into the inside of his elbow, and he rubs his cock against José's mouth and cheek as he comes, getting thick ropes of it across his mouth, down the side of his face. José's entire body shivers with a groan. 

James slumps down against the wall, and he forces his eyes open to look at José. Who still looks feverish, eyes dark, shining like coals. 

José climbs over to James and sits in his lap, pushing his own shorts down and tugs at James's wrist. 

"Please." 

James doesn't waste time, he wraps his sticky hand around José's cock and starts jerking him desperately, José squirms in his lap, pressing into James's hands, and he tips his head back against James's shoulder.  
James turns his head and latches his teeth over the hollow of José's throat, sucking a little hard, knowing he's going to leave a bruise. José just lets out a cry, hips bucking harder. He sees José's crying, tears rolling down his cheeks, but he looks blissful.

Like he's overwhelmed. 

José comes so hard it almost looks like a fountain and he spurts on his chest, and on his own face. Looking debauched. They sit there against the wall, both panting, for several long moments. 

José keeps running his fingers through the drying come on his stomach, and rubbing his cheek against James's shoulder. 

He eventually gets José up and into bed, cleaning them up with a washrag. 

(José has an interesting reaction to the washrag, shuddering and writhing as James tries to clean him up, his skin getting red everywhere again and James wonders what's going on, because it looks like the act of cleaning him up was going to make him come again.) 

Afterwards, José rolls around in the bed, feels the covers, feels at James's hair some more, and he spends a good amount of time nuzzling at him, kissing warm bared skin. 

James wishes he could learn if José was always that affectionate. 

When James wakes up the next morning, José is gone. James almost wonders if he dreamed the whole thing. But in the visitors clubhouse, James notices the dark purple bruise on José's neck. 

And the way José's deft fingers keep tracing over it. 

Their eyes meet -- James wonders if he's going to learn after all.


End file.
